When I Say Run Run!: An AdlockSherene Fanfiction
by throughtheparadox
Summary: Just my version of what happened after Sherlock saved Irene from the Karachi terrorists.
1. When I Say Run Run

throughtheparadox

"When I Say Run... RUN!" An Adlock/Sherene Fanfiction

This is my first fanfic. No smut. Just my idea on what happened between Sherlock and Irene on that night in Karachi. P.S. The idea about Mycroft helping was somehow my brother's.

One quiet afternoon, while silently lying on the couch, Sherlock Holmes had his eyes shut, slowly wandering in the depths of his mind palace. Deleting the unnecessary was his procedure after something becomes irrelevant. Almost everything is irrelevant. There are only a few things in the world that he deemed important to keep in his hard drive.

If there was one thing he can't delete, it was the memory of her—-the woman. It was not because of love, for he, of all people, knows that sentiment is a disadvantage. It was more of an epiphany that even the great Sherlock Holmes can be _almost_ beaten.

_RIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIING!_

"Who is it now?!" Sherlock hissed as he reached for his mobile phone.

"Sherlock. I have some news." said Mycroft on the other line. "It's about Irene Adler."

"You've made it clear, Mycroft. I have nothing to do with her anymore. What makes you think I'm of interest to her now?" Sherlock replied.

"Well then. I guess you wouldn't want to know that she was being held captive in a terrorist cell in Karachi." Mycroft mused, with a tone of superiority.

Sherlock remained silent, his thoughts unclear. What is Mycroft trying to get out of him? A reaction? A show of care? Clearly he must be playing him.

On the other hand, he thought of Irene Adler. She was smart… An equal. He owed her the great pleasure of a great mind game to which he almost lost.

"Well Sherlock. I guess you dozed on me again. I'm hanging up."

"Mycroft." Sherlock replied, his tone almost hesitant. "Surely you can fly me there immediately."

Mycroft laughed on the other end of the line. "Is this caring Sherlock? Like Redbeard all over again?"

"Don't mock me, Mycroft. Can you fly me there or not?" Sherlock bellowed.

"Yes, Sherlock. I can."

"When I say run… RUN!" Sherlock breathed.

With Mycroft's help, Sherlock fought off the terrorists setting Irene free.

"You can't hold all of them off. Go ahead and run after her." Mycroft whispered in Sherlock's earpiece. "I'll have my people take care of the rest."

After catching his breath, Sherlock saw Irene Adler watching him from the corner of the street.

"Well, Mr. Holmes. You came to my rescue just right after I bid you goodbye." Irene purred.

Sherlock went to her side and nodded. "I found a place for you to stay for the mean time. Follow me, Ms. Adler."

As they walked down the street, Sherlock noticed that Irene Adler kept on glancing at him. When they reached the hotel Mycroft has arranged for them, Sherlock brought Irene to her room.

"Good night, Ms. Adler."

"Wait." Irene called, reaching for Sherlock. "Can we talk, Mr. Holmes?"

Sherlock stared at her for a moment, noticing her trembling hands, her nails chipped and cracked which may indicate that she has struggled to get free for days. Her eyes are swollen and had dark shadows indicating at least two days of sleeplessness. He remembered how he found out that Irene Adler fancies him and how he figured what she means when she asked him to have dinner.

"I… What do you want from me, Ms. Adler?" he mumbled.

She opened the hotel door and motioned for them to come inside. Sherlock followed.

Irene sat on the bed and Sherlock slumped on the couch across her.

"You must be tired, Ms. Adler. I'll leave you to rest."

"Mr. Holmes. About… the last time we saw each other. I… I'm…" Irene uttered.

Sherlock stared at her, "Ms. Adler. I told you, sentiment is found on the losing side. You don't want to lose twice now do you? That's in the past now. Good night."

Irene smiled, shaking her head. "What do you say about dinner, Mr. Holmes?"

"Ms. Adler. I came here to make sure you live. Not… to have dinner."

Irene laughed and reached for Sherlock's hand. "I mean real dinner. I'm famished. Would you join me?"

Sherlock smiled. "I'll call for room service."

As Sherlock sat on the couch, apparently lost in his thoughts again, Irene Adler watched him intently. She laughed when Sherlock almost jumped when room service knocked on their door.

As they eat, Sherlock glanced at Irene, and he saw how she can't seem to wipe the smile off her face. Irene looked up at him and sighed.

"Will I see you again, Mr. Holmes?" she asked, running the fork slightly along her lips.

Sherlock stared at her, thinking of a response. He was not sure where Mycroft would take her after tonight and he was unsure, for the first time, if he wanted to cross paths with Irene Adler again. He just averted his stare back to his food and continued eating.

As they finished, Sherlock stood up and walked to the door. Irene followed him as he stepped to the corridor and reached for his shoulder.

"Mr. Holmes. Please take care of my heart." she called.

Sherlock turned around and as he did, Irene planted a slight kiss to his lips. "Until we meet again." she whispered as she turned away and closed the door to his face.

Mycroft told Sherlock that he will send a message to him to let him know where he will send Irene Adler for safety. Sherlock just walked away from him and shook Irene Adler from his mind.

A few months later, Irene Adler was again mentioned by John. According to him, Mycroft has spilled the news. Sherlock sensed that his brother gave John a false story about The Woman, seeing how hesitant he seemed at the moment to tell him the news. However, he also knows that Mycroft is smart and that the false story is actually the true story. That whatever Mycroft had John tell him works as reverse psychology. He almost smiled at Mycroft's method of delivering him the information.

"She's in America. Mmm-hmm. Got herself on a witness protection scheme, apparently. Dunno how she swung it, but, er, well, you know." said John.

"I know what?" Sherlock asked.

"Well, you won't be able to see her again."

"Why would I want to see her again?" Sherlock replied and biting his tongue as he did. John didn't mention anything about wanting…

"Didn't say you did." John muttered, a smile creeping up his face.

"Is that her file?" Sherlock asked, noticing the bundle in John's hand.

"Yes. I was just gonna take it back to Mycroft. Do you want to…?" John offered.

To show his indifference towards Irene Adler, he sat back down and continued looking into the microscope. "No."

"Listen, actually …" John mused.

'Please take care of my heart' Irene had said. It was a puzzle, Sherlock thought. She was talking about the mobile phone. How silly of him to think otherwise. "Oh, but I _will_ have the camera phone, though." he told John.

He held out his hand towards John, not lifting his gaze from his work to not raise any suspicions from his friend.

"There's nothing on it any more. It's been stripped." John announced.

"I know, but I …" Sherlock pondered on it. If Irene Adler and his paths cross again, he would like to give her mobile phone back to her as his salute. His… promise to her.

"I'll still have it." Sherlock continued.

"I've gotta give this back to Mycroft. You can't keep it. Sherlock, I _have_ to give this to Mycroft. It's the government's now. I couldn't even give …" John cried.

"Please." Sherlock muttered.

As John gave him the phone, he asked if Irene Adler ever texted him again after the mobile phone confrontation.

"What did she say?" John asked.

"Goodbye, Mr. Holmes." Sherlock replied.

As John walked out, Sherlock crossed his room scrolling over his mobile phone and checks the stack of Irene Adler's messages to him. As he recall that night in Karachi, he smiled at the thought, chuckled even, at the memory of her.

Knowing that she is still alive, his mind burst with the thought of meeting her again to continue the charade they're playing. A game of mind and emotions that he found enticing.

He caught himself whispering to himself that she is indeed _The_ Woman who made him think that sentiment is not at all dangerous if such wit is applied. He took one last look at her Vertu phone and locked it in his desk drawer, tucking away the memory of her to await their next meeting.


	2. An Unexpected Guest

Hello everyone! I posted my "When I Say Run... Run" Fanfic and someone requested that I should make another one; their next meeting. Hope you enjoy!

A normal evening in Baker Street for most people is not at all advantageous for Sherlock Holmes. He was slumped on his chair wrapped in a bedsheet as he is every night whenever he is about to sleep, fingers itching to pull the trigger of his gun and hopelessly fighting the urge to shoot at the lazily painted face on the wall across him. Not that there's any space left for more bullet holes.

John and Mary called earlier, reminding him not to burn his flat down. He told them he won't, wanting his friends to enjoy their vacation in peace. And yet, with the boredom eating him from inside out making it hard for him to rest, he might just light something up. He is the type of person who sleeps better with a lot of things in mind rather than silence.

A soft thump broke his concentration, fully aware that something suddenly went out of the ordinary. The sound came from his bedroom and in that direction he crept silently. As he reached the doorframe, he pointed his gun at the intruder and was utterly surprised to see the intruder rummaging his closet.

"Hello, Mr. Holmes" he heard her say, turning as she probably have felt his presence. Her hair flows loosely on her head, her face flushed and yet regal. She was wearing a black dress, slightly covered with dirt and ripped at the edges. Her fingernails were chipped, for both her hands and feet, no Louboutin heels in sight.

"Ms. Adler, may I know your business with my closet?" he said, deadpan.

She laughed softly, touching his hand to put the gun down. "Sherlock, dear, I think it's beyond you to ask such silly questions."

He studied her, those playful lips smiling at him. The last time they saw each other, she had played him nicely… that silly puzzle about her heart.

"If you're looking for your mobile phone, it's not there." He mused, stepping away from her.

"So you figured it out. As expected." she replied, obviously amused. She remembered how she kissed his soft lips slightly, hinting a riddle to take care of her heart. His brilliant mind, she thought, caught the message by keeping her Vertu phone.

She smiled as he left the room, heading for his chair, near the fireplace. She was pleased that he didn't drive her away, making her unconsciously hope that he does care for her. Looking down at her tattered clothes, she picked out one of Sherlock's dressing gowns and shook off her dirty clothes, throwing them in the trash bin.

Sherlock, on the other hand, sat on his chair wondering what The Woman would possibly want from him. 'He wants the phone, obviously. Is sentiment creeping up on you, brother?' He heard mind-palace Mycroft tell him. Sherlock hissed.

"Do you have a towel? I haven't showered in days." He heard her say, appearing in front of him in the same dressing gown she wore when she stayed here 2 years back.

She is beautiful, he can't deny that, but is was her intelligence that made him get intrigued by her. He saw her raise her eyebrows at him, probably wondering why he was staring. "Mr. Holmes?" she said.

"Sit." she heard him say, his hand gesturing towards John's old chair. She nodded, feeling the heat fill her face as she remembered the last time they were in this position, that day he took her pulse and revealed her heart's hidden desire.

"Towel?" she asked again. He shook his head, staring at her intently. "What is it, now?" he asked.

Irene raised her eyebrows at him, pretending she didn't understand. Of course he wants to know why she came. Judging by the look on his eyes, he already has an idea. Who wouldn't? Her clothes were ripped, nails crusted with dirt.

"Someone's after you… again. Why run here?" he asked, no emotion in his voice. "Oh you already know, don't you? You are Sherlock Holmes, are you not?"

"The pho…" he was about to say but her laughter cut him off. "No, darling. That has no use to me anymore. Surely you know that it has been stripped under the orders of your brother."

"Then wha…. Ah! You need my help. Someone is after you."

She smiled, staring at him, drinking in the image. Sherlock Holmes seated in front of her, only a sheet covering his body. She could feel herself flush, her hand unconsciously clenching as she gripped an riding crop that wasn't there.

"Are you wearing anything underneath that sheet, Mr. Holmes?" she asked, her tone full of desire. He looked confused for a moment, then looked down at himself suddenly aware of his lack of underclothes.

He stammered, cleared his throat and continued. Irene smirked.

"Ms. Adler, your business?" He asked again, his tone grave.

Irene went to Sherlock and sat on his lap, just to annoy the consulting detective and somehow, for her personal agenda. He was frozen in place, looking her directly in the eyes, his expression unreadable. She draped her arm over his shoulder and leaned close.

"Well, I believe you know that Jim Moriarty is back." she said, her voice barely a whisper. Noticing that Sherlock is still motionless, she continued, her breath prickling his neck. "Somehow, he found out about Karachi. He wants me dead."

"How can you be so sure it was him?" Sherlock replied, his voice slightly trembling, Irene feeling the vibration of his chest as he spoke.

Irene laughed softly and Sherlock can feel that she was shaking... why? He doesn't know. She was always so hard to figure out, he thought and he believed that she was clinging onto him not to annoy him but rather she needed comfort. He remembered her face when he unlocked her phone, beating her. For a moment she looked as vulnerable then as she was now.

Irene looked directly at the detective's blue eyes and Sherlock was aware how her pupils are once again dilating. She leaned in close, planted a soft kiss on his cheek and stood up, heading towards the bedroom. Only stopping to look back at him and smile.

She disappeared behind the door and he started to fix the couch he would sleep in.

In the middle of a deep sleep, Sherlock was awaken by a scream.

"Oh dear God! Fire!" he heard Irene Adler shout, coughing harshly.

Sherlock rushed to the bedroom, thinking that the people who wanted her dead traced her. "Ms. Adler... what..." he asked, breathing hitched from panic.

As he opened the door, there was nothing out of order maybe except of The Woman sitting calmly on his bed, smiling at him. "Funny how fire exposes our priorities, Mr. Holmes." she mused, starting to snuggle one of Sherlock's pillows.

"I don't know what... Good night, Ms. Adler." Sherlock said, turning his back on her, slightly confused as to what happened. She had used the trick he had told her once before, not understanding what she was trying to get from him.

He heard her chuckle as he was about to leave. "Good night Mr. Holmes. And by the way, I was listening to your heart rate earlier. It elevated," she muttered as she turned off the lamp on the bedside table.


	3. When Opposites Meet

(A/N: hello! This is the third installment to my fanfic set. If you wanna know more about them, visit throughtheparadox, )

One bright afternoon, along Baker Street walked Molly Hooper, a package in her arms. She stopped in front of apartment 221B, her fingers gripping the knocker slightly. A smile broke across her face as she saw Mrs. Hudson open the door, inviting her in.

"Hello dear. I rarely see you anymore." said the landlady.

"Been busy at the hospital lately. I just came to bring Sherlock some more eyeballs. He's working on a new experiment, I think." Molly replied.

Mrs. Hudson looked at the package and shivered slightly, her eyebrows scrunching up. "Well, remind Sherlock not to put those in my fridge. I almost fainted the last time. Arm in the crisper. Tsk tsk."

Molly smiled and nodded. She bid Mrs. Hudson goodbye, going up the stairs to the detective's flat.

Letting out a deep breath and pinching her cheeks for a bit of color, she knocked at the door.

"Sherlock? Sherlock! I have the eyeballs you wanted me to bring." she called. After a couple of seconds, she knocked again.

Of course she was used to this. Sherlock wouldn't even notice if someone set the flat on fire if he's in a deep thought. She sighed, muttering to herself that she would just leave the package outside his door for him to find. As she was about to leave, someone opened the door.

"Oh… I…" she was about to greet him when she saw someone else standing in his place. Gray eyes stared at her intently, natural curls framed the other woman's regal face. Clothed in a dressing gown that was obviously not hers for it was too long in length, Molly assumed that what the woman is wearing must be Sherlock's.

"Hello. Sorry, I just got out of the shower… Would you like to come in?" the woman asked, opening the door a bit wider, inviting her in. A bit shocked, she just nodded, picking up the package as she went in.

As they entered the flat, Molly stared at the woman from behind, slightly envious of her elegance. Molly bit her lip, feeling self-conscious as she stared down her knit sweater, faded jeans and plain, canvas shoes.

"Oh dear, how very rude of me. I'm Irene Adler. Sherlock left early today, working on a new case, I believe." The woman, Ms. Adler, stretched out her hand and Molly shook it. Irene sat on Sherlock's chair and smiled at Molly.

"Sit down." Irene offered, gesturing towards John's old chair.

"I don't… I mean… That's John chair. Sherlock doesn't let people sit there." Molly replied, shaking her head. Irene laughed.

"Well, he's not here, isn't he? Go on… Sit. Please keep me company." Irene requested.

Molly nodded, despite the fact that she was supposed to meet with Tom, her boyfriend. She can't deny her curiosity, wondering who this woman is and who is she to Sherlock. Molly felt a pang of jealously and pushed the thought aside, thinking of her new boyfriend.

"I'm Molly Hooper. I… I'm a friend of Sherlock." she squeaked.

Irene Adler's eyes lit up upon hearing the pathologist's name. "I think I've heard your name before. Do you know the records keeper at St. Bart's?"

Molly nodded, slightly confused. Then she remembered hearing Ms. Adler's name a couple of years back when Sherlock called her in during Christmas. She could never forget how the detective recognized a corpse from not her face but for the rest of her naked body. It was the Christmas she bawled her eyes out crying because of hopelessness.

She looked up at Irene Adler, the other woman's gray eyes studying her. Unable to resist, Molly said, "You were dead! I was there when Sherlock… confirmed your corpse. I… Hardly anyone could fool him."

The woman laughed, eyebrows slightly raised as she took in Molly's statement. "And tell me, how did Sherlock react when he thought I was dead?"

Molly can feel bile rising up her throat, her chest aching. "Well… He… Ummm… The face was all bashed up so he asked me if I can show him the rest of the body… Are you his girlfriend?" she asked, wanting to hit herself as soon as she asked. She lowered her eyes because of embarrassment.

"You and I know that Sherlock Holmes is not someone who's into that kind of relationship." Irene Adler replied, her tone almost hopeful, or so Molly believed.

"He seemed heartbroken that night." Molly muttered, her voice barely a whisper.

"Is this love I see, Ms. Hooper? You are in love with Sherlock Holmes, am I right?" Irene asked, sincere curiosity filled her voice.

"No…I…I'm with someone else. Sherlock's my friend and I… I just felt he turned very lonely that night." Molly replied, her eyes giving her true feelings away. Clearly anyone who can see her can figure as much.

To her surprise, Irene Adler smiled. It was a smile that Molly recognizes, a smile that stretches across her own face whenever she thinks of Sherlock Holmes.

"Don't lie to yourself, Ms. Hooper. I, for one, tried to deny my heart of such honesty. And yet, Sherlock Holmes, being as clever as always, found out my heart's desires and yet he chose to ignore it. And yet here I am, in his flat considering myself a guest just so I can get a reaction from him." Ms. Adler confessed.

"Why are you telling me this?" Molly asked, not quite sure where Irene was getting.

Irene looked at her intently, all traces of humor leaving the woman's face. "I don't usually open up to other people, for I am not a trusting person. But in this moment, I choose to trust you and I hope you keep this between us."

Molly nodded and Irene Adler continued. "I am a woman driven by lust and passion and power… And yet I got intrigued by Sherlock Holmes in a way that I was never intrigued with anyone. As I can see, we are completely different and yet our heart shares the same…sentiment." Irene smiled, as if thinking of an inside joke.

"You bring understanding and genuine care to Sherlock and I believe he can see that. Those qualities are some of the few things I am not particularly skilled at. Quite frankly, this is the first time I felt… jealous. But I do love a tough competition. What do you say, Ms. Hooper?"

As Irene offered her hand to Molly, the pathologist knows that if she took it, she would be betraying Tom… And yet, her heart commanded her arms to move and shake Ms. Adler's hand.

Before leaving, Irene thanked Molly for the wonderful conversation. As she stepped out of the flat and headed towards that door, Molly called Tom on her mobile phone and told her she can't meet him. For the first time in her life, Molly accepted that no matter how hard she tried, Sherlock will always be her eternal love. And with Ms. Adler's challenge ringing in her ears, she took a deep breath, pinched her cheeks and looked forward to the next time she will meet with Sherlock Holmes.


	4. An Inquisition About Janine

Sherlock enters 221B, his eyes tired and weary with all the arguing he did with Donovan. Good thing Lestrade is on his side. He let out a sigh, as he flicked his scarf off his neck.

Silence. Music to his ears.

"Somebody passed by earlier. Brought these." he heard someone say. He had almost forgotten that she was here. The Woman.

She was comfortably sat on his chair, her hair loose on her shoulders. He caught a scent in the air, not Irene Adler's perfume, but someone else's.

"Molly Hooper was very good company." she added, confirming his thoughts. He walked over to the fridge and saw a package full of eyeballs. He almost forgot about asking her and yet she remembered. She always remembered. He turned and saw Irene studying him.

"You didn't…" he started, a bit worried about the pathologist. Irene Adler can be quite intimidating and her… habits are not something he believed Molly is used to.

Irene smiled, her eyes crinkling as she did. "Oh dear! No. She's not my type. Or rather she's not the type I would want to play with."

Sherlock was relieved. He studied Irene at the distance they were in and he noticed the way her smile was pinched on the edges. She's disturbed, he can tell and yet he can't figure out why.

"She kept you company. What exactly did you do?" he inquired, bothered by Irene's expression. After all this time he can't think of an explanation as to how Irene can be so mysterious even if he has already deciphered her heart.

She stood up and moved to John's chair, knowing that they can't keep a conversation going if Sherlock isn't seated. His eyes followed her movement and got the message.

"Well?" he pushed, sincerely curious. What could Irene and Molly, two very different women, talk about?

Irene curled up on the chair opposite to Sherlock and replied, "She's in love with you, which I believe you are very well aware. Sentimental, that one. Holding on to you despite… all this." She finished the sentence with a sloppy wave towards the detective.

"You're the one to talk about sentiment, Ms. Adler." Sherlock replied, his voice deadpan.

She smiled, still forced he figured. "Oh dear you are always so cold. But I believe there is someone… Hmmm."

Sherlock's eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

"Ah! Augustus Magnussen's assistant… Janine, was it?" Irene mused, her expression unreadable. Sherlock can only read from her tone that she's been itching to ask him this question since she got here.

"It was for a case." He simply said, his gaze fixed on The Woman.

She smirked, shifting from a curl to sitting up straight, her body language indicating controlled annoyance.

"I've seen the headlines, though. Shag-A-Lot Holmes? Quite a disappointment since I was the one who asked first. She should've gotten in line." Irene said, a playful smile on her lips contrasting the cold look on her eyes.

For some reason, Sherlock felt embarrassed. He averted his eyes away from her from a moment but he managed to look back. "Nothing happened. I used her, she used me. The papers were lying."

"I believe it was you who said that love is not a mystery. You seem to know it very well to call it destructive and yet you play with it. It's like playing with fire, Mr. Holmes." Irene replied, her expression still cold.

At this point, Sherlock was clearly confused. Ms. Adler seemed angry and disappointed and yet he doesn't know why. He saw her stand up and march towards his bedroom, probably to lock herself up.

Before she turned away from him completely, Irene glanced back at him and muttered, "You avoid sentiment, Mr. Holmes. And yet look at where we are now."


	5. Remember When?

Sherlock Holmes cannot sleep.

The Woman has not left the room ever since she stormed away from him earlier that day.

He stood up, almost jumping. He couldn't bear not knowing the answers. He walked towards the bedroom door and banged on it.

"Ms. Adler. Open the door. I need to talk to you."

"Leave me alone, Mr. Holmes." he heard her say.

"Ms. Adler, you are upset. I can tell. As for the reason, I have absolutely no clue. You caught me off-guard again." he confessed, giving away a nervous laugh.

For a moment there was no answer. As he was about to knock again, Irene opened the door, her head down. He noticed that her eyes are swollen, he assumed from crying.

"I… Did I wake you?" he asked, thinking that The Woman doesn't want to be asked if she was crying. However, he could recognize the way she looked whenever she's upset from that time he deduced the code of her Vertu phone. She was crying then, as she is now, he thought.

"No." she replied, her voice slightly cracking. "I was… working on something."

"Oh… Sorry to interrupt. I'll… probably best if I leave you to your business now." he muttered, unable to look at her directly. She looked so fragile, so unlike the strong woman who he got used to.

Irene nodded. She was about to shut the door when Sherlock turned back to her.

"Wait." he said, his voice barely a whisper.

"Yes?" Irene replied.

"I apologize for whatever I did wrong. I truly do." he told her, meeting her eyes. Suddenly feeling embarrassed, he averted his eyes. "Erm… Good night, Ms. Adler."

He turned away from her but he felt her catch his arm.

"Mr. Holmes, I apologize as well. I don't know what got into me earlier. Snapping at you like that. Can we talk in the living room or are you sleepy?" she asked, letting go of his arm.

He jerked his head to the side, inviting her to go with him. He sat on the couch and was surprised when Irene Adler sat beside him, her head leaning on his shoulder.

"Mr. Holmes, did anything happen between the you and Magnussen's assistant?" she asked frankly.

A bit uncomfortable of their position, Sherlock tried to crane his neck to see her expression and yet the closest he got was the top of her head. She smelled like her perfume, Chopard's Casmir, with a faint touch of smoke and tea, probably because she sleeps on his pillow.

"No. She just said all those things to earn money and to get back at me for using her into getting to Magnussen's office. I told her I was saving it up for the wedding." he plainly stated.

Irene gave a soft laugh. "Really now? Conservative thing, are you?"

Sherlock caught himself laughing as well. "Ah! Ms. Adler. Speaking of Magnussen, when I woke up at the hospital after Mary shot me, there was a rose at my bedside table. I… I didn't get the chance to say thank you."

Irene stopped laughing and looked up at him. "You knew?"

"Well, you left a note. 'W' for The Woman. Plus, your perfume was lingering the air." he pointed out.

She leaned her head against him again and this time, he felt a little bit okay with it.

"Why didn't you wake me?" he asked, biting his tongue as he did. What did he want to get out from her? Stupid.

"You are lovely when asleep, Mr. Holmes. Remember when I tucked you in here as I brought back your coat?" she asked sleepily.

He smiled. "Yes, Ms. Adler. I remember. I also remember when you begged me for mercy." He cannot forget that night. The way he beat her at their mind game.

She hit his abdomen lightly with her left hand. "Admit it. You liked seeing me beg."

"And don't forget Karachi. Priceless" he added, laughing silently. He could feel Irene shaking beside him, also laughing.

They fell silent for a moment, both just staring into nothingness.

"Ms. Adler… why were you crying earlier?" he whispered, not being able to help himself. No response.

He leaned in closer to her, hearing a slight hum escaping her lips. She was already asleep.

Feeling rude to wake her, he let her lean to him that night and at some point, he fell asleep as well, his head against hers, the smell of her hair lingering in the depths of his dreams.


End file.
